


My Choice Is You

by setthingsinmotion



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Comfort, Future, Hurt, Love, M/M, Past, and solved, burdens from the past are being discussed, happiness, love is everywhere, rewritten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 16:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14501496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setthingsinmotion/pseuds/setthingsinmotion
Summary: With that, Richard stands up, all eyes on him and Connor’s sure that this is it, he’s going to leave and they are never going to see each other again, but yet again, Connor’s wrong as Richard keeps on talking: “I’m on good terms with Gemma, the entire family, even with your mother, but not with you. At first I thought you were just being a typical teenager, but after some time I had to face the reality that you hated me and that there was nothing I could do to fix it.”





	My Choice Is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosello/gifts).



> Hi *waves*  
> How have you been? Some of you might recognize this story as I posted it earlier this year and put it down as I seemed to have failed at getting the message across: I thought the message should be plain and simple: Love is love. No judgement, no prejudices, just love. And that's beautiful. But, being a straight girl myself, my take on this story might have been influenced by the so called rose-colored glasses. With that being said, I decided to change this story up a bit, because I couldn't let it go. It's close to my heart, I didn't just write this piece because I'm a Coliver shipper, I wrote this because I wanted it to have a purpose, a meaning, even if it was just for me, to put into words what kind of world I wished to live in one day. And if some of you suspect that Shadowhunter's Malec has given me the courage to get back to this story, I won't say you're wrong ;)  
> I believe in falling in love with the soul first and foremost to be the most ideal way of loving another person, no matter what. But I do understand that as someone who's only looking at it from an outsider's point of view, that I may have aimed too high at making this clear.
> 
> If nothing else, I want to give my fave Keating memeber the closure he needs and deserves.
> 
> Last but not least, I dedicate this to rosello, even though, chances are he has forgotten about this story. (Honestly, I have only recently figured out that once I answer to one your comments, you get a notification, so you can write another reply and so on...I didn't know that back then, I wouldn't have deleted this in the first place if I had.)
> 
> Have fun, and if you want, let me know what you think
> 
> Love,  
> settingsinmotion

**My Choice Is You**

„It is beyond me why I agreed,” Connor picks up the conversation, very well aware that he’s going to lose whatever battle he has gotten upon himself. “It’ll be awkward and messy and totally not cool. We’ll be yelling at each other and your wonderful menu’s going to be flushed down the toilet.”

“Melodramatic much?” Oliver replies calmly, his lips curving into an amused smile as he stares at his boyfriend; and Connor feels it, the hidden meaning behind Ollie’s kind eyes. “ _I know you think I overstepped an imaginary boundary by inviting your dads over to dinner, but no, I don’t regret it. You know, I know that this is something that should have taken place years ago and I’m not letting you win.”_

Connor quiets down. Technically, only one of them is his dad. The other guy – Steven- is his stepdad; a long time ago, back when everything was good and right in the world. There are a lot of different thoughts occupying his mind right now. It’s difficult to deduce which one is sending the strongest impulses – the one that makes him want to kiss and thank Oliver for even being interested in his and his father’s messy relationship and is moved deeply by his boyfriend’s determination to make things right or the other - more Connor-like impulse – the strong need to yell at the man standing at the stove, preparing the chicken and make sure that this dinner’s being cancelled.

“I just don’t want to drag you into it. You have got nothing to do with it. We have nothing to do with all of this,” Connor says slowly, wrapping his arms around Oliver’s midsection. He knows he has lost the very moment he puts his chin on Ollie’s shoulder. He doesn’t try to kiss his boyfriend’s neck, just rests his head and breathes.

“It’s all going to be okay, Con. I promise.” Oliver doesn’t turn around nor does Connor want him to. This is good. This is right. This is Ollie making a promise.

Two hours later – dinner’s ready, the table set – Connor finds himself facing an odd mix of emotions; an aspect that’s unpleasantly reminding him of his early childhood. Long before Connor Walsh send emotions, love and relationships to hell, he was a remarkable kid – not only in terms of his education and grades, but his sense of empathy and compassion. He believed in grey rather than black and white and wanted to make the world a better place.

He’s wearing a dress shirt and his nicest pair of jeans. Normally, Connor loves to dress up for any given opportunity. But this dinner date is anything but normal. It’s the absolute opposite if normal. It’s crazy. Insane even and he should have bolted by now. But he hasn’t. And why is that?

“I told you, you’d feel better in adequate clothing,” Oliver states, clearly pleased with the outcome. “Sweatpants and my old hoodie…really Con? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Thank you,” Connor replies dryly. “For your information, I’ve been wearing said hoodie many, many times before and I’ll keep wearing it.”

“Go ahead, do as you please” Connor can see that his boyfriend’s trying very hard to keep a straight face, but it’s to no avail. The only thing Oliver does fail to recognize is that Connor’s not joking. From where he’s standing, worn out sweatpants and his boyfriend’s even more worn out hoodie is appropriate attire for the hell that’s going to come. “But not tonight. You’ll regret it, trust me. And as the love of your life – as stated by you – I feel responsibility to do what’s upstanding and right and protect you from heartbreak.”

Connor thinks that this aura of determination suits Ollie. It adds another shade to his man’s inner beauty. Tonight, Oliver won’t take no buts, and it’s rather hot actually, but not tonight. What Oliver doesn’t seem to understand is that this situation tonight – this is the very definition of heartbreak. They begin to light the candles Oliver had wanted to buy and put on the table; Connor’s objection that this wasn’t a double date had remained unheard. Their hands brush as at the last remaining candle. They don’t joke about it, Ollie just smiles. He’s been smiling a lot lately and Connor? He’s on the brink of calling Oliver a sap but decides against it. Now’s just not the time; as so often, they find content and reassurance in their mutual silence.

As much as Connor hoped for a last minute call off, his wish isn’t granted. Asked later, he’ll swear, he’d heard his father’s footsteps long before the quick, strong knock cut through the silence of Apartment 303. “Don’t be nervous, Ollie,” Connor advices, whispers it under his breath. If Connor acts as though Oliver’s the one who’s been going through some emotional crisis since this date had been set in stone, he could make it; with all the hands-on experience he’s gotten from Annalise, he’s become the master of pretence.

“Don’t worry about me,” Oliver answers, opening the door.

* * *

 

 

The reason Connor doesn’t get along with his father is as obvious as it is ridiculous: Connor can’t handle the fact that his dad’s gay. And yes, he’s aware that his attitude has risen more than just a few occasional eyebrows.

“I was so happy when you two invited Steven and me over.”

“Oliver, Oliver invited you for dinner. I had nothing to do with all this and if it were up to me, all this –“ he points at the candles and the chicken – “would be done already. But hey, that’s just me. What do I know?”

Richard’s reaction is exactly what Connor anticipated, calculated even. After 13 years of absolute radio silence, Connor still knows how to pull the strings when it comes to his dad. They’re made of equal temper which means two possible outcomes: knockout or  extra time. And Connor’s come armed.

“Nothing. That’s the problem. You know nothing except the things you deem worth knowing.”

Connor 1 : 1 Richard. It’s a tight. Not that Connor’s keeping count no, it’s not a competition, nothing to win, nothing to lose except his pride but he’s had it hurt worse not only by his dad, but Aiden and even Ollie.

Ollie. Who’s far too good and far too kind to be with someone as scarred and emotionally instable as him. Ollie’s who’s sitting beside him, Ollie who’s obviously fighting an inner battle wondering how this egomaniac asshole be his boyfriend’s father. Connor can tell because he’s been wondering the same. They have absolutely nothing in common, except their temperament. Absolutely nothing. It’s likely possible that they aren’t even related. Okay, only in theory but hey, who knows, right?

Right?

“And now I know where Connor got is good looks from.”

Hold on a second…what?!

Connor turns his head around faster than Grant Gustin as The Flash, and he’s pretty sure he’s torn a muscle and Ollie’s gonna have to give him a massage tonight but…what the actual fuck? How messed up is that, having your boyfriend complementing his maybe-one-day-when we’re in a good place-father in law on his looks? It’s got the potential for a horror movie! One of those trashy ones, everybody hates, but everybody’s watched at least once. It’s a fucking borderline dare that requires psychological guidance.

“This smile…”, he hears Steven endorsing “this smirk and mischief. I knew I’d be drowning for the rest of my life.”

“Yes, absolutely. Connor’s smirk just…knocked me off my feet, you know?” Ollie elaborates further, smiling this gummy bear smile Connor loves so much and it’s directed at Steven of all people, come on….

Who said anything about having fun tonight? Connor had thought they’d both be brewing in misery and awkwardness but no, apparently Oliver’s having too much fun bonding.

Connor can’t help feeling betrayed. Ollie’s supposed to be having his back, not Richard’s. He needs a drink.

“Want something?”, he asks, question directed at everyone and no one at the same time, hands shoved into his jeans pockets and expression deliberately indifferent. But Ollie’s there and Connor knows the least he has to do is to pretend to try, so that at the end of the night when Richard and Steven will be gone home, he won’t have to feel so bad when he’s forced to feed Ollie the so unholy phrase of I told you so. “Beer, vodka, cocktail?” He really doesn’t care for either of them to participate; he’d actually prefer to be the only intoxicated guy tonight. The idea brings a rush through his endocrine system, making him feel much younger, less experienced and a lot more rebellious.

Oliver stops mid-sentence – something about IT – Is Steven in IT? He’s pretty sure they talked about this, that it came up as some sort of warm up after rather rocky greetings had been exchanged. His man’s smile is small, hardly visible; it’s the secret smile only Connor can decode. “Wine, maybe?” His voice is quiet, by no means small but self-assured. What does Ollie know that Connor doesn’t? He’s smart enough to figure it out but before he can dig more deeply, he feels the adrenaline leaving his body replaced by a warmth Connor knows is connected to who he’s become and who he is now. Who he wants to be for Ollie.

As you wish.”  One sweet domestic peck on the cheek later, Connor’s arm rests on the chair back, his cheek grazing Oliver’s. Steven and he are eye to eye now and Connor’s determined to not blink first but as it turns out, Steven doesn’t seem to understand that they are battling, so…”Steven, anything I can get you?” Oliver’s smiling beside him, he can feel it. “A beer would be lovely, Connor, thank you.”

A rather loud sound of distaste from Steven’s seatmate hogs the limelight – a Richard Walsh speciality. “I don’t like beer.”

“No one forcing you to, in all honesty, I like beer, Ted likes beer, Oliver doesn’t but hey that’s fine because this is a free country and we can drink whatever the fuck we want. It’s not always your sensitivities that are of prime relevance.” This is why the Walsh men don’t get along, plain and simple. Connor knows, Connor has always known that his father held too much power over him, forcing him back driving old roads he left behind a long time ago. But Connor can’t help it and maybe the fact that he can’t is more on him than on the man sitting opposed to him.

Richard’s face is emotionless with the exception of his lips pressed in a tight line. He’s going to give his son a lecture in front of their husband and boyfriend, scold him like the little teenage boy he was when his father decided that to leave them all behind and start anew, when he forfeit the right to teach his son anything.

“We have whiskey, if you’d like?” Oliver offers, clearly to  defuse the situation. “I bought some yesterday,” he explains hurriedly thanks to Connor’s raised eyebrow.

“A glass of whiskey is exactly what I need.” Another stinger aimed to hurt but this time Connor does his best to ignore his father. It’s not as easy as it sounds; especially as Richard turns out to be unexpectedly clingy.

* * *

 

“I’ve got this. Four drinks, two hands. Do the math. I don’t need your extra hand.”

“I know. But Steven and Oliver are so lost in whatever conversation they’re having, that I just didn’t have it in me to interrupt them. Where are your…?”

Connor blinks. Once. Twice. A third time but the image remains. His father is standing in their kitchen, awkwardly and a tad unsure – as much as Richard Walsh has the ability to be awkward or insecure. Connor considers it to be an act, a mask put on to impress his husband but no, the way he’s pacing back between the sink and the fridge is a stark reminder of a young man who – not so long ago – came knocking at an apartment door with flowers in hands and his heart in his perfectly polished shoes. “Over there”, he points at the general direction, “next to the fridge.”

After some rather light chat about how Oliver loves a good glass of dry red wine but gets sleepy after not more but two sips and Richard’s interjection that it’s not the beer he doesn’t like but the brand Steven prefers, they grow silent, beer and whisky placed on the counter beside them. The only noise coming from the living room.

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that none of them have come looking for us or their drinks?”

“Don’t you think that these drinks were the chance they had been waiting for?”

The exchange of smiles is brief.

Richard takes a step back. Whatever this moment was, it’s over now, but contrary to Connor’s gut feeling, his dad doesn’t escape the situation, he dives deeper. Connor follows his every move, it’s surreal and irritating seeing Richard touching the photos of him and Oliver that are attached on their fridge. “May I?”

Connor nods and doesn’t dare to make a sound as though one wrongly taken inhale could ruin whatever  fragile mending is happening, The older man is Connor’s spitting image or more so, Connor is his, it’s as clear as chandelier. This is what he’ll look like, will his wrinkles be mirroring his father’s? The deeply carved worry line on his forehead or the lighter ones around his eyes.

“You look so happy in all those photos. Gemma told me but, no offense, I couldn’t believe it until I saw you and Oliver together. How did you meet?”

This is a normal conversation. Connor’s had a similar one with Mr and Mrs Hampton. Every parent wants the great questions of who, when, where and how answered. But with Ollie’s parents, there was less to hide. Of course, they didn’t tell them about the murders and the crimes (what a great first impression would that have made? One to remember, one for the books, sure but none you want to be remembered.) The Hamptons knew as much about their story as was safe, so they knew about Connor’s commitment issues, about spatula guy and Pax and the fact that their son’s HIV infection was on Connor and Connor alone. In Connor’s book, every single one of these aspects alone would’ve been enough to slam the door in his face, send him to hell and convince Oliver to never ever see him again. But they hadn’t. Oliver’s dad informed him that – even though he’s against gun violence, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Connor’s sorry ass  shall he ever break his son’s heart. He had smiled during this speech and said something about “no hard feelings, a father’s responsibility and welcome to the family.”

The only Walsh family member that had been given the same knowledge was Gemma. Like the Hamptons, Gemma didn’t judge, but gave advice and she wouldn’t scold his slutty behaviour but bring one of her gay colleagues to their Christmas parties or keep in touch with her newly discovered homosexually orientated dad. Connor didn’t blame her, she had kids who had a right to know their grandpa.

“What’d she tell you?” Given that Gemma wasn’t a chatterbox, probably not more than the sheer information that Connor had a boyfriend. That’s enough information for Connor.

“That his name his name was Oliver, that you had moved together and that you’re in love. Something along with how Oliver’s so sweet and kind…Gemma was gushing like a teenage girl. I think she loves him almost as much as you do. And I must admit Oliver is remarkable. He is…”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Oliver’s voice is echoing from the living room, only marginally. He knows he should just let it be, that Richard didn’t mean anything by this, that he – Connor – is overreacting, but he’s only got so much willpower.

"You know dad, you almost had me, really, I mean it. But this..”, he’s  gesticulating vividly, exasperatedly…”this was a bit too much. Not that I expected you to, but you come here after I dropped out of law school and you pretend that you came here for me, for my life, for my boyfriend when we both know, you came here for your own reputation.”

And once again, the room has fallen silent. This is not the comfortable silence Connor’s gotten used to or silence announcing a storm, it’s defeat. And it doesn’t feel half as good as he thought it would. People say that speaking your mind frees the soul from whatever demons held it captive, but when there’s healing, there’s hurting first.

“What is going on here?” Oliver’s has entered the kitchen, followed by Steven, their confusion evident. Connor exhales sharply and turns around. Didn’t Ollie see it? Richard was supposed to not make an effort and to not like Oliver because given the Walsh’s family history, Richard wouldn’t even know a good thing if it jumped at him.

“Connor was just about to tell me how you two met…”

If looks could kill, Richard would be drop dead now, but Connor’s death glare is blocked by Oliver’s back, who has weaselled his way between the two men, back resting comfortably against the kitchen counter, wine glass in hand. “Let me guess, Connor isn’t willing to share?” There’s a spark in Ollie’s eyes as he takes another sip of wine and eyes Richard. “You can say that. My usually self-assured and confident son seems to be…”Richard Walsh makes a contemplative sound, before he continues, “he seems to be keeping things from me. Speaking from a father’s point of view, more often than not, those details are the best part of the story. I mean, you’re special, Oliver, you’re Connor’s first boyfriend since…”

Oliver’s face creased into a little frown, he clearly didn’t like where this conversation was going. Steve, on the other hand, seemed to be very interested. “First boyfriend since…? How old are you again, 27?”

“That guy from boarding school, your roommate, what…what was his name again?”

“You mean the guy that made me realize I was gay and made me confess to you, Mom and Gemma at the age of 14? That would be Aiden…” Connor replies sharply. “And he wasn’t my boyfriend. He was just a coward who claimed to be straight, or at least bi, but god forbid, gay. He was a coward, he still is.”

“Yes, yes…Aiden, right. His name was Aiden.” Richard’s voice isn’t more than a faint whisper and if Connor didn’t see the man’s lips moving, he’d probably consider his tolerance limit. Steven’s rushed to his husband’s side, an arm around his shoulders. _He’s providing comfort_ , Connor thinks. _Nonverbally that is. It’s actually pretty great._ No matter the odds he and his father are at, Steven is a great guy. Connor has to give him that.

“I’m sorry Connor. It’s never been my intention to upset you.”

Upset…upset…this is the best his father has to offer after all these years, after leaving, after dozens of  therapists trying to convince Connor that the divorce wasn’t his fault? After the empty vacuum that Connor had called life before he met Oliver, Richard thought that “upset” was the appropriate superordinate?

The air is vibrating with pent-up tension which makes it almost impossible to breathe. With the last bit of breath, Connor focuses on Oliver, a kiss on the cheek. “Excuse me for a moment.” Oliver nods in understanding, squeezes his hand reassuringly and lets him go, without so much as looking at their dinner guests, he escapes the situation.

* * *

 

He ends up in the bathroom. The moment he locks the door behind him, he feels relief and pride washing over him. He may have left the kitchen, but he’s still in the apartment. He isn’t running for the hills, all he needs is a moment to himself, to blow off steam and maybe, just maybe, shed a few tears.

With both arms on either side of the sink, Connor breathes, the cooling water doing wonders to his overheated skin and sore eyes. He’s waiting for the panic attack to catch and drown him, but it never shows.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the greatest coward of them all?” The question remains unanswered; he isn’t sure which answer he’d thought he’d hear or which one he wants to hear. He’s learned that the things you want and the ones you get, aren’t always in sync with each other. Ten minutes and three grimaces later, Connor gives up and heads back to their little dinner party from hell.

* * *

 

Outside, he’s confronted with an eerie silence that, for only a moment, lets him believe that the dinner’s over, that Richard’s gone, that all of this has been a dream, but in reality he’s okay with the three men sitting on the couch in the living room. No one dares to speak.

“Hey,” Connor greets, “who’s dead?” Given the horrified looks everyone’s directed at him, humour is.

“Connor!” Oliver turns around on his seat, his eyes blown wide. “You’re okay?”

Connor shrugs. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

He’s met with silence that’s ringing in his ears with its intensity. It’s weird, unusual and he knows that something’s coming; something big, something that will leave yet another imprint on his soul. He thinks he knows what it is, he hopes and fears he’s right.

“Dad, even though I don’t think I owe you an apology for my behaviour tonight or my behaviour over the last 13 years, I do owe you an explanation.” Connor has to admit, saying this sentence is not as difficult as he thought it would be, in fact, it was surprisingly easy to act like an adult, or more so, to act like the man he always wanted to be, the best version of himself. “That’s what this night was all about, am I right – Steven, Ollie?”

Both men are nodding in the affirmative. But Steven is the first one to speak. “What gave us away?”

Connor, who’s taken his seat beside Oliver, leans back comfortably. This is more like him, connecting dots, unmasking conspiracies; that’s why he had wanted to become a lawyer. “The whiskey. Ollie doesn’t drink whiskey, he had no reason to buy some unless he knew that one of you would most likely ask for one if the evening went as planned.”

“But, I like planning ahead, I live for knowing what’s going to happen next, what if I only bought a random bottle of whiskey, just to be on the safe side?” It’s cute, but Connor won’t be distracted.

“Having my dad’s favourite whiskey in stock, is either a coincidence, luck, clairvoyance or a conspiracy.”

"Con, I’m sorry…I should’ve…” But Connor indicates Oliver that it’s alright. And it is. Connor could tell that Oliver felt terrible in case he hurt the former law student,  just like he knows that Oliver meant well. “Asked me first? Probably, but I don’t see us sitting here, if you had. Plus, I can’t tell you who to befriend via Facebook. That’s not the kind of relationship we are running. I can’t speak for Richard, but I’m not angry. Not anymore.”

“Neither am I. Actually, I’m rather thankful.”

“Good, now that that’s sorted out, let’s talk. What exactly has Gemma told you about me?”

It turns out that Gemma has been very talkative in terms of her brother, keeping their father informed on what was happening in his son’s life on every aspect, she told him about his grades about friends he made and about her fear that her brother would end up alone. She hadn’t explicitly mentioned that instead he had been sleeping around a lot, but given everything that Richard already knew, it has been kind of an open secret to him.

“And because of one drink too many and some girl at some bar, you ended up at Oliver’s door with a bouquet of flowers?”  Richard asks for clarification. “So much for the guy who _doesn’t do boyfriends._ ”

“Yep. Turned out al I had to do was finding The One.” Connor admits sheepishly. It feels warm, and cosy and right.

Richard on the other hand seems to fighting an inner battle. “But why, Connor, why did it take you so long to believe in love?” he’s scratching his neck rather nervously like he knows the answer already, but isn’t sure if he’s ready to hear it.

And Connor isn’t sure if he’s ready to voice it. If they decide to take this route, there’s no going back, it’s final and will probably the end of their rather short reunion.

 “I mean, I get it, your mom and I had a divorce and it’s clear that children have a hard time dealing with this sort of events, but to renounce love? Your mom and I we set a good example at marriage and family and I think that’s what’s being a parent is all about. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that there is only one right way to find happiness, but Gemma and you were given the exact same example and yet, drew completely different conclusions.”

To say that Connor’s taken aback by his father’s rushed confession would be an understatement, his tongue is made of stone, unable to form the words the accusation that want out so desperately, but he just can’t.

He should’ve known from the start that the idea of talking things through with one Richard Walsh is a lost cause. People like him are so thick headed, they fail to see what’s happening, what their actions cost those people closest to them. He’ll never stand up for his past mistakes. “If you don’t know, then I am afraid, that I don’t even know why we’re talking in the first place.” Within less than a minute, Connor’s taken a time machine and the ice in his tone is a souvenir from the guy he was before he attended Middleton, the guy that had no idea he’d fall madly in love with the dorky IT guy he only approached for a case.

The walls are up again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. If you told me, I could…” Richard looks unsure and small sitting across from him, but Connor, who’s feeling much too powerful right now, doesn’t even think about granting mercy. “If I told you, I wouldn’t know if you were being honest.”

“Honest about what? I love you, Connor, you’re my son. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted for you and Gemma is to be happy. And yes, I admit that I came because you dropped out of law school. What father wouldn’t if their child was throwing away their life without giving an explanation?”

Connor makes a pejorative noise, but Richard keeps on talking unwaveringly. “But, and this is important, I didn’t come solely because of that, I rather saw my opportunity, saw the chance to allege this as a pretext to finally meeting your boyfriend. And I knew this was the only chance.” With that, Richard stands up, all eyes on him and Connor’s sure that this is it, he’s going to leave and they are never going to see each other again, but yet again, Connor’s wrong as Richard keeps on talking: “I’m on good terms with Gemma, the entire family, even with your mother, but not with you. At first I thought you were just being a typical teenager, but after some time I had to face the reality that you hated me and that there was nothing I could do to fix it.”

Connor’s eye to eye with Steve, a lump forming in his throat. Steven, who’s frozen in place, sending a silent prayer that Connor may shake his old man’s and tell him that all has been forgiven. He’s looking at Oliver, who seems ready to catch him or his father or both if it needed.

Good. That’s good, because as much as Connor wants to, he is not ready to forgive and forget.

“I know that dad, I get it,” Connor whispers. “But do you, really? I mean, you do understand that you being gay is obviously, can’t be the problem here right?” The room has fallen completely silent and he can sense it, the moment in which it dawns on Richard Walsh what has been going on. “You think that this was your fault?”

This is the turning point. “If I hadn’t come out to you, maybe you wouldn’t have…” And suddenly Connor feels like he’s 14 again, but unlike all those years before he doesn’t feel brave. He knows it’s nonsense feeling like he’s the reason his parents got a divorce. It’s nonsense and childish and yet, he can’t help it.

“Connor, I loved your mother. I still do. I will always love her and when I proposed, I wanted her to say yes. I loved her and I thought that the love I felt for her was going to be enough. I made this mistake when I decided not be honest to your mother or myself. I love her, so very much, but not in the way that she deserves to be loved. I had known that for a long time before you came out to us and I think so did your mom. You didn’t make me do anything I hadn’t wanted, Connor. You just gave me the courage I needed.”

Now it’s Connor who is shaking, with the adrenaline rush dying down, he’s getting tired and cold. All of this doesn’t make any sense, except it kind of does and he remembers:  That’s why he had chosen to never fall in love. Being in love doesn’t make sense. _If that’s true, why does loving Ollie make so much sense, more sense than anything else?_

Love comes in all forms, colours and intensities; it’s a mystery, a beautiful mystery that cannot be categorized.

He lets Richard lead them both back to the couch, where Ollie’s warm embrace is waiting for him. Even on a night like this, Ollie’s subtle support makes it all better.

“I am so sorry if that was too much of a burden for you. With your fourteen years, you were so much braver and much clearer headed than me, so much more of an adult that I thought you’d understand this as the compliment that it was meant to be.” There’s something between relief and stress playing on Richard’s feature. During this dinner, he has aged at least 13 years, Connor suspects. “But I love you Connor, you and Gemma. I don’t regret being your father, if that’s what you’ve been thinking. I could never…”

Maybe he and his dad are much more alike when Connor thought; maybe both men had worn an iron shield of protection.

Looking back, Mrs Walsh had taken the divorce with pride and her head held high, Connor thought that this was just the way to handle crisis when you’re from a rather privileged background. But maybe, his mom and dad had found an understanding, a common ground that can only be built on great affection and shared memories.

“Of course not. The guy that made you come out and broke your heart because he wasn’t able to be his true self…Steven says, “he’s going to be miserable for the rest of his life unless he stops trying to force things in a specific direction. He only has a chance at finding the love of his life if he stops trying to be someone he's not."

So Steven knows about Aiden…

“It came out during one of our coffee dates,” Steven admits bashfully.

“That’s probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. Con”, Oliver says, eyes shining with happiness and adoration, “without saying too much, I think you should be very proud of your dad. This is a realization that most people fail to discover their whole life.”

That much is true, Connor is ready to admit that. He can feel the weight of more than a decade being lifted from his chest and he feels lighter, so much lighter; he’s floating and giddy and happy, just happy. He’s in a good place, and remembers the heartfelt conversation about growing old together, about dogs and houses and kids, and he just knows that he’s going to ask Ollie to marry him, the next chance he gets.

* * *

 

**The End**


End file.
